


You Can't Go Back the Way You Came

by nottonyharrison



Category: Good Girls (TV), Graceland (TV)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Post-Episode: s01e10 Remix, blink and you'll miss it cross over, if you haven't seen graceland then you can just imagine this is just a GG fic it's that minor, really just porn let's be honest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 15:29:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15488967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nottonyharrison/pseuds/nottonyharrison
Summary: “So this is it then?” She stands as tall as she can, her chin tilted up and her eyes trained on his, unblinking. Inside she’s shaking like a leaf, but she does her best to show bravado. It’s strange, the whole time they were working together she always felt that he was never a genuine threat, more that he was leading her down the right path towards self preservation. Tonight is different, tonight she feels like prey.“Yeah… I guess so.” His lashes flutter a little, and he glances down until his eyes are resting on her lips.“Long time to leave a loose end, isn’t it?”





	You Can't Go Back the Way You Came

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on[ tumblr I love prompts and meta questions you have no idea](http://nottonyharrison.tumblr.com)

It’s a dark night, but the bright streetlamps light up the suburban Detroit street. there’s a car parked in between two illuminated areas , in a dark spot under an evergreen that’s still lush with coniferous foliage. It’s been there for half an hour, and Beth feels uneasy as she peers into the night from the front porch.

She shivers. It’s January and the snow that was a foot deep last week is left in patches across the yard. She notices the ice forming in a puddle on the edge of the path, and shoves her hands in her pockets. A door slams, and she looks back towards the car. There’s a figure walking across the road, male and around six foot. Slim. His walk is confident and cut with a swagger that’s irritatingly familiar. She reaches inside the door to the gun sitting on the table.

His face comes in to the light and it’s him. They haven’t spoken in nearly a year. Not since he slid a gun across the table at her and told her she was going to shoot someone. She’s holding that same gun now, and the cool metal grounds her as he walks up the path, carefully stepping in the spots with a heavy grit.

He looks good. His face is tan and his eyes alert, a change from the sallow, tired, bleeding complexion he had been sporting the last time he was in her house. His coat is turned up against the cold, and she can see a soft gray scarf underneath.

Neither of them speak until he’s a foot away from her. His feet are light on the steps and he jogs up them quickly. She grips the gun harder through the crack in the door. His mouth isn’t smiling, but his eyes crinkle in a way that remind her of the moment he told her she didn’t need Botox. They look at each other for twenty seconds or so, and don’t speak. She gulps and starts to move her hand towards the door.

“Put the gun down, Elizabeth.”

She grips it tighter. “It’s been a while… I can’t imagine you’re here to ask me to pop over the border for some wrapping paper.”

He smiles now, a crooked self deprecating smile, and looks down at his feet. She looks down too, and inspects the tidy brown leather dress shoes. The base of the lacing peeks out below the dark blue slacks. She looks back up and realizes the scarf is actually a blush pink.

“Put it down.”

She grips the gun harder and he takes the half step closer so his body is touching hers. He reaches through the door and grips around her hand, moving it back toward the table. She lets go of the cold metal and the gun hits the wood with a thunk. She lets him crowd her until she’s inside and he’s pushing the door closed.

“So this is it then?” She stands as tall as she can, her chin tilted up and her eyes trained on his, unblinking. Inside she’s shaking like a leaf, but she does her best to show bravado. It’s strange, the whole time they were working together she always felt that he was never a genuine threat, more that he was leading her down the right path towards self preservation. Tonight is different, tonight she feels like prey.

“Yeah… I guess so.” His lashes flutter a little, and he glances down until his eyes are resting on her lips.

“Long time to leave a loose end, isn’t it?”

His eyes shoot back up to hers, and his mouth twists in an ironic smile. “Nah, you ain’t a loose end.” He licks his lips, and buries his right hand in her hair. “Where’s that piece of shit husband of yours?”

Her heart is thudding in her chest, and she feels sick. “You wanting to avoid witnesses this time?”

“Somethin’ like that.” He lets go of her hair and lets his fingers slide down her neck until they’re at the collar of her coat. “Kids?”

“They’re with him.”

Her head is spinning, her lungs feel like they’re on fire and she can feel the blood rushing in her ears. Her vision tunnels and she can feel her legs start to wobble. He grabs her and turns them around until she’s pressed hard against the fake wood of the front door. His hand is back in her hair again, and the other is under one thigh, pressing it hard up against his. Then he’s kissing her.

Not on the mouth, on the jaw. It’s soft and gentle, and she shivers because it’s so unexpected. Then she slides her hands up to his neck and tugs the scarf off, out from behind his coat and drops it on the floor so she can grab his neck with both hands and slide them up until they’re bracketing his ears. She kisses him. On the mouth. A hot, wet slide of lips that they both gasp in to, and a shiver runs down her back.

He pulls his mouth away and leans his forehead against hers. His eyes are closed. She runs her thumb across his cheek, under a pale scar. “Listen, Beth I gotta tell you something.”

His phone starts ringing and his eyes snap open. He reaches for his coat pocket and pulls out a beaten up iPhone. She takes it from his hand and places it next to the gun, face up. On the screen is a picture of a black man napping with his arms crossed, and the word TURNER blazoned across the screen.

She shrinks back against the door in surprise. It takes a moment, but the pieces fit together in her head. The white collar crime, the fact she’d never seen him actually hurt anyone… the empty gun that he slid across the table. She looks up and meets his eyes, ‘you here to arrest me?”

He laughs and it’s that same smile as the day she tried to sell him the stolen Botox. Wide, genuine. His teeth are straight and white and she wonders how she never picked him as an undercover agent. She can see the faint remnants of the neck tattoo now that his scarf is gone. He looks younger.

“That depends…” He licks his lips and runs his hand up her side. “What trouble you been gettin’ yourself in to?”

She shakes her head nervously and her brain shuts down for a moment when he starts unzipping her coat. “Nn..nnothing… none at all.”

“See I’m not sure I believe you.” He slides his finger over the necklace that sits against her now exposed neck, and trails down towards her cleveage. She’s not wearing much below the outer layer, just a sports bra and a thin cotton tank top.

“I swear… nothing since...” the words die in her mouth as he slides his hands down her arms and the coat drops to the ground.

“Fuck _me._ ” He groans and steps back from her, and she crosses her arms against herself suddenly conscious that there’s a chill in the air. “Look that phone ringin’ at that moment wasn’t exactly what I had planned here.”

She levels her eyes at him and sets her mouth in an expressionless line. She reaches over and passes him the phone. “You should probably call him back. Wouldn’t want him to think some gangbanger had got a hold of you and chucked you in a cement mixer.”

He unlocks it quickly and fires off a text too fast for her to read. When he’s done he slams it back down on the table and presses her back up against the door.

“it wasn’t just me, was it?”

“What?”

‘This.” His breath is warm against her cheek and she shivers. “Even when you thought I was a gangster you wanted me. Tell me you did.”

“I did.’

“D’you know what it feels like to want something so bad, ’s like your whole body is itching?”

She swallows. His body is so close now that she’s really only being held up by the force of him. Her legs feel like jelly.

“I know what it feels like,” she says, and pushes him a little until he steps back. Then she steps closer and pushes him again. It takes him a few moments before he gets with the program and lets her guide him toward the stairs.

The journey up isn’t graceful. It’s messy and clumsy and even thought they don’t kiss they nearly trip when Beth shoves his coat off and it falls in their path. He picks her up then and carries her to the room they argued in on the day of Kenny’s party. It’s not until hes sitting on her bed, her in his lap, that they kiss again. She kisses him like she’s never kissed anyone before… with longing and anger and something she can’t quite put her finger on.

“Wait.” His voice is a rough gasp, and she pulls back. She finally notices the rest of his attire. The slacks are part of a full suit. He’s wearing a tie that matches the scarf they’d left on the floor of her entry, and a crisp white shirt that makes his skin look even more beautiful than before. “Beth I…”

“It’s okay, I get it.” She smiles at him and unbuttons the jacket. Underneath he’s still wearing a shoulder holster and she pauses. “I’m a criminal after all.”

He grabs her face with both hands and looks at her like it’s the most important thing he’ll ever say to her. “My real name… it’s Joe.”

She raises her eyebrows and smiles. “Well _Joe_. Are we going to fuck now, or do we have to talk some more first?”

He presses his lips against hers, hard and closed mouthed while his hands move into her hair. She whimpers behind his teeth and grinds down on his crotch until he opens his mouth and tilts his head to the side. His mouth is warm and his tongue just grazes her bottom lip. She doesn’t want to think about Dean right now but the thought still rushes thorough her head that he always thought more tongue was better and she hated it. Rio… _Joe’s_ tongue is gentle and delicate and she bites down on it when it touches her teeth. He lets out a whimper and shoves his hands under her tank top.

She lets him strip her of it, and when their lips part she glances down at the holster.

“Okay yeah I’ll just...” he shrugs out of it and drops it to the floor, kicking it under the bed with his heel. She smiles and tugs on his tie.

He lets her tug him to his feet, and a few minutes later they’re left only in their underwear. Beth is suddenly self conscious, and crosses her arms over her exposed stomach. She feels every one of her forty-one years, and all the stretch marks and body imperfections they come with. He puts his hands on hers and moves them to his shoulder.

“Hey _hey._ It’s ok. Look.” He guides his hand to a scar on his collarbone, then another on his forearm and a long stripe of puckered skin along his ribs. “We’ve both _lived_ , don’ be ashamed of it.” He kisses her fingers and her eyelashes flutter closed. “’Sides you are like... the sexist woman I have ever seen in my entire life, and mama I used to live in Long Beach.”

She laughs, and he pushes her down onto the bed. They lay side by side facing each other, legs tangled together.

“That first time I saw you, after you stole that money...” He’s grabbing her hair again. “I have never wanted to blow my cover so bad.”

“I thought you were going to kill me.” Her eyes harden for a moment and she glares at him.

“You remember that day in the car, when you were going in for the FBI interview?” He licks his lips and rubs his thumb on her temple. “Turner told me the story you spun an’ I couldn’t get it outta my head for a _month._ Fuckin’ blueberry pancakes.” He moves his hand to her back and works on her bra. The clips take a bit of work, but eventually she feels the restriction on her chest release, and he kisses her neck as he pulls the fabric away. As he trails down her chest he murmurs against her skin, “All I could think about was maple syrup getting stuck between your tits and me being the lucky bastard who got to lick it off.”

She’s used to men making a big deal about her breasts. Before… _Joe_ , only two men had ever seen them. Her first boyfriend, who got her top off in the back of his car when she was fifteen, and then Dean, who had been obsessed with them until she’d had their first kid, and he’d lost interest the second he’d seen her breastfeeding.

She should have realized in that moment that she deserved better.

Joe, _Joe,_ Joe. She was getting used to it. Joe. He wasn’t obsessed with them. He stopped off for a few moments on his way down, paying more attention to her hips and the tops of her thighs. It was the first time she felt wanted for _her_ rather than her body.

Her underwear is still on, and he doesn’t bother to remove it. They’re plain navy blue cotton briefs that stand out stark against her skin and he pushes them aside so he can wrap his lips around her clit. She’s been uncomfortably turned on from the moment he took her hand and made her put the gun down, and now, twenty minutes later, she’s slick and wet and his fingers slide right into her without any resistance.

He curls them against just the right spot, and flicks at her clit with his tongue. She can’t help but grip is scalp, hands tight against his short cropped hair.

“Don’t make me come,” she manages to gasp out five minutes later. She can feel herself tensing, and presses her heel into his back. “Please I _can’t._ ” He lets go of her with his lips, but keeps rubbing against the spot inside with his fingers, and she whimpers as he lifts his head and his eyes meet hers. “Not until you’re ready.”

“Hey, I was gonna make you go a couple of times, that not something you’re in to?”

“I can’t.” She lets out a shaky breath and he presses harder against the spot. “Oh, _fuck._ ”

“You can’t, or you couldn’t with _him?_ ”

She drops back against the pillow and lets out a loud _oh_ as he pulls his fingers out sharply, and flattens his tongue against her, licking a stripe from bottom to top. She’s gone as soon as his fingers are back in her and his tongue flicks at just the right angle, and it’s a shuddering, sudden bolt that goes through her. It’s different to any orgasm she’s had before, and it’s almost dissatisfying as it’s so short and harsh, but as Rio’s lips trail up her body back to hers, and his hands wrap around her until she can feel his warm skin pressed hard against hers, she can still feel her body twitch, like someone plucking a violin string randomly, violently.

Joe. _Joe_ , she reminds herself again.

“I uh, don’t have a condom.” His face is apologetic, and she bites her lip as he presses his hard dick against her thigh. He’s still in his boxer briefs. “I came here to come clean, this was a kinda unexpected. Although incidentally I _am_ clean so… that’s a bonus I guess.”

She rolls her hips and tugs at his underwear with one hand. “Take them off.”

“Mama don’t do this to me… _shit,”_ he gasps as she puts her hand around his dick and squeezes, slowly sliding her hand up the soft skin until he presses his face into her neck and just _moans_.

“Do you trust me?”

He presses his forehead against hers. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“But do you?”

“I be here if I didn’t?”

She wriggles and shoves her underwear down and he does the same. “Four kids and a cheating husband… let’s just say I’m glad I’ve got insurance.”

He kisses her again, his mouth open and desperate against hers. She whimpers, and squeezes her thighs together. His dick is trapped between them, and he thrusts hard against her legs as his teeth bite her swollen bottom lip. She relaxes for a moment, and he takes the opportunity to slip inside her. He’s thick and soft. Not particularly long, but when he lifts her leg around his waist and presses as deep as he can she whimpers and twitches as a pang shoots through her pelvis.

“Fuck, sorry.”

“No, I’m okay, it’s just been a while.”

“You mean a sexy, badass, _smart_ dama like you hasn’t been swimming in dick for the last year?”

She laughs and he tugs on her ear with his teeth.

“I’ve thought about this every night since we met,” he says. She rolls her hips and tries to maneuver herself on top, but he grabs her hands and presses them into the pillow on either side of her head. “Not yet.”

She’s gasping and writhing against the sheets before he lets her take control, and when she finally comes for a second time she’s not surprised. She’s leaning over him, her lips against his jaw, his hands hard on her hips, pulling her against him with an almost brutal force. They don’t say much, and when he tenses and presses his thumb against her clit, she just _goes –_ a shuddering, long, almost painful orgasm that radiates from her pelvis up to her chest. She watches him close his eyes, his O face is the complete opposite of Dean’s, instead of being comical and ugly, it’s intensely sensual. He gasps and bites his lip, and she drops down so her chest is pressed against his, and her mouth is open against his soft, pillowy lips.

She realizes his face is smooth, almost like he had a shave before he’d come, and she rubs her cheek against his before lying down next to him. He rolls on his side and presses his long, lean body against hers and wraps his arm around her, holding her firmly, possessively.

“I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“I spent twenty years with a man who used me as a trophy and a maid.” She sighs and wriggles closer, tucking her head under his chin. “Waiting a year on nothing and then discovering something you didn’t even know could exist… that’s different.”

She feels him smile into her hair.

“Come to dinner tomorrow, come see my house. I’ll cook you some tacos and fuck you on the counter.”

She laughs and runs her hand over his chest, smiling as it dips around his pecs, and flicks over his nipples.

“I’m serious. I wanna do this, don’t you?”

She smiles and her fingers twitch against his chest. “Yeah, yeah I do.”

_End_

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I had the totally cracky idea that a crossover where Rio is actually an undercover Johnny Tuturro who's a little bit older, a little bit wiser, and is totally over LA and being reminded of Graceland on a daily basis, so he's upped sticks moved to Detroit where he feels like he can do some good, and is going by his real name for once. I always have this feeling of Rio being a weirdly soft guy when he's doing his own thing. I blame the few moments we've seen his vulnerability (particularly the key throwing incident), but mostly the scene in the warehouse where he's directing the staff like a conductor. There's no yelling, no intimidation, just encouragement and enthusiasm. That was the moment I stopped seeing him as a villain and started seeing him as more of an antihero, and I think without that scene I probably never would have ended up shipping these two so hard. And now they've ruined my life so what the fuck ever ok.


End file.
